


Without Knowing What to Do

by DJoftheCoven



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Character Study, Gen, He doesn't know how to balance solitude with company, PICTURE IT SOFT AND ACHE BITCH, Snufkin is trying his best, Stick around bois. Author has PLANS. SLEEP DEPRIVATION. AND NO DEFINITE UPDATE SCHEDULE!!!, Trying very hard to write new chapter, a loT of fluFF thOUGH, awkward update schedule, exploring new emotions, no beta we die like illiterate men, warning: will get angsty, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-04-08 03:31:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19098883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJoftheCoven/pseuds/DJoftheCoven
Summary: “It looks like my very first glimpse of the valley when I arrive,” he continued fondly. “And the last that I see of it when I leave each winter. I couldn’t think of anything else more perfect to put into such detail. They do say, after all, that the sweetest tastes of any wine are the first sips and the last.”A tale of winter, love, loss, and magic quilts.





	1. A Midwinter Night's Dream

A cold wind was blowing from the east, stinging Snufkin’s exposed paws as he fished and making him shiver with the passing chill. 

He felt an unpleasant numbing sensation blooming in his fingers, which were shaking slightly, and glared wearily at the whipping breeze. He knew that winter was coming to the valley soon, but honestly, it was still supposed to be the middle of autumn. Would it not be too much trouble to ask for a decent temperature? 

Snufkin had never much minded the cold, but this was just a petty thing on nature’s part, he thought. Rain and mist in the early morning, blaring sun in the afternoon... will the weather just make up its mind? He’d like to know what to prepare for. Maybe not all the time, but at least sometimes. Only hours before, Snufkin had been nearly dying of heat stroke and the disgusting, sticky feeling of his coat saturating with sweat. Now he was shivering. And he still had fish to catch for dinner! 

But the wind payed no mind to Snufkin’s internal griping and groaning, only sweeping defiantly into a flurry before blowing some leaves into his face. He spat and sputtered at the offending plant life. 

“Snufkin!” said a cheerful sounding voice that was struggling to reach through the noise. “Snufkin, can you hear me?” 

“What is it?” He called, feeling frustrated with his soft voice, which refused to carry far. 

“Quick, come here! I’ve got something for you!” Said Moomintroll, now visible in the light of the late afternoon. He was standing just a little way past the porch of moominhouse, waving one of his fluffy, white paws up in the air. 

Snufkin turned back to the fishing rod, hesitant. Would it really be worth it to abandon the line? As fishing often goes, the moment that he steps away from the rod, it will have a catch for him. His mouth was almost watering thinking about it- not a thing had been placed in his bucket today and Snufkin was quite hungry. With the flavorful jug of broth that he’d recieved from Moominmamma that morning, he could make any number of delicious stews. 

Just then, Snufkin’s chilled paws began to protest. Oh, confound it all. Perhaps a moment couldn’t hurt. 

He turned and secured the pole in the ground. Moomin was still waving from where he was standing, clearly unperturbed by Snufkin’s moment of silence. He just continued beckoning, shooting glances inside every few seconds. 

Snufkin chuckled at Moomin’s excitement. Feeling like an old man, he hobbled slowly up the path leading to Moominhouse. His knees were slightly achy, which most definitely did not help his case. 

“Snufkin, do hurry! It’s quite cold out. Wouldn’t want you getting sick!” Moomin exclaimed. 

“Don’t worry about it, dear Moomintroll. I’ve endured far worse during my winter travels.” Snufkin replied with an air of pride. He pointedly ignored the throbbing in his frozen fingers. 

Moomintroll rolled his eyes, fondly though, and held out his hand to Snufkin when he got within reach. Snufkin took it, gently interweaving their paws until they were clasped together tightly. He looked away, feeling suddenly bashful. “Although I’m sure that a little bit of warmth would be nice.” He finished. 

Moomin hummed, lifting their paws up and grabbing on with his other one. He nuzzled the back of Snufkin’s paw softly. “Well, it’s a lucky thing that my fur is warm enough for the both of us, then.” 

“Mhmm.” Snufkin assented, not trusting himself to construct a proper sentence. The brim of his hat found its way down over Snufkin’s eyes as Moomin started to lead them inside. 

Once properly through the door, Moomin fussed over Snufkin’s hat and scarf. He gestured for him to leave them by the sofa, to which Snufkin scoffed humorously. Politely, Snufkin agreed to remove the hat. But the scarf stays. He tugs it over the bottom half of his face to compensate for the lack of privacy that the large hat typically provided. 

Moomin became too distracted by whatever he’d been wanting to show to Snufkin to make a scene about it. Thus, Snufkin sighed contentedly into the fluffy scarf, settling into himself enough to listen to his friend. Moomin was buzzing excitedly to the observing Mumrik about some new discovery that he’d made earlier that day while out with Little My. 

“Really! I know that you like things like this. You know, it took me almost all of the afternoon to finish it, but it’s finally ready! Give me a moment and I’ll go retrieve it from my room!” said Moomin. He then pulled his paw away from Snufkin’s, scampering quickly to the staircase. “Make yourself comfortable while I’m away!” 

Snufkin watched Moomintroll run up and out of sight, clenching and unclenching his clammy fists under the folds of his overcoat. He could still feel the lingering warmth of Moomin’s palm. 

“Alright then,” Snufkin said softly, to no one. “I guess I will.” 

He wandered quietly into the usually busy kitchen, which was mysteriously void of inhabitants as of then. Perhaps not a bad thing- a little bit of silence goes a long way when inviting Snufkin into an enclosed space. 

On the table was a mug of steaming tea, with a little note tucked under the rim. Snufkin studied the scene for a second before letting curiosity get the better of him. He slinked up to the table and used a claw to coerce the paper into reach. The little scrap of parchment felt damp, probably from the steam. He looked at the bubbly looking writing, recognizing to be Moomin’s. 

Dear Snufkin, 

I figured that you would come in here first! I’ve prepared a mug of tea for you to warm you up a tad. You like Chai, correct? If I was wrong, there should also be a cup of English Breakfast by the stove. That’s the one that I made for myself, but I don’t mind whichever one you choose. If you’d like mine better, help yourself! I also left some biscuits by the tea, but Little My has presumably stolen them by now, so I’ll just grab you some when I’m back downstairs. 

Moomin 

Next to the signature was a little doodle of Moomin, smiling. As Snufkin’s eyes scanned over the words again, he was unable to suppress a smile in return. It was very cute. He tucked the note into the deep pockets of his coat, then reached gratefully for the warm beverage. 

Only a few moments later, Moomintroll came running down the stairs again and burst into the kitchen in a flurry of movement and words. Snufkin could barely catch half of them, but he pulled himself together enough to understand the last sentence or so. 

“-And so, she and I decided that it would make a better gift for you than anyone else. It still took forever, if you can believe it!” Moomin laughed and tossed a package onto the surface in front of him. It was wrapped in only simple brown paper that made a scratching noise when it landed. 

Snufkin clutched the tea to his chest. “Goodness, Moomin! Don’t tire yourself out so. I’ll still be here when you finish.” he said, taking a small sip from the mug before returning it to its spot between both his paws. 

“Sorry, I'm just excited!” Moomin replied. “But the point is, I really hope you’ll like it.” He looked hopefully at Snufkin then, with shining eyes the color of summertime. 

Snufkin felt mixed emotions dancing around in his body, none of which should really go well together. He didn’t usually like material possessions, as they tended to drag him down when he was traveling. However, this is Moomin that was giving him the gift. Moomin was a notoriously good gift-giver. Besides, Snufkin thought, if he had to admit at least one thing to himself every day, he would have to remind himself that he really did like it when his friends showed that they cared about him. His heart was saying ‘go for it’, even if his mind said ‘decline’. 

Also, he just remembered that Moomin did say that he had something for Snufkin, even before entering Moominhouse. It would be a little late to refuse at this point. 

Snufkin picked up the parcel, inspecting the paper. The gift felt soft beneath the wrapping. Almost... pliable? Maybe it was a tapestry. Don’t get him wrong, Snufkin loves art as much as the next Mumrik, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to take something like that with him outside the valley. 

“Well?” Moomin said, shifting from foot to foot. “Would you like to open it?” 

Snufkin blinked, mind blank, at Moomin for a moment. “Oh! Right, I can be so thick sometimes. I’ve gotten lost in thought again.” 

Moomintroll chuckled at that, then looked down at his feet. 

Snufkin gently tore away the old wrapping paper, only to discover a large expanse of cloth underneath. He couldn’t quite make out anything on it except for a beautiful navy-blue pattern curling around where he was grasping it. 

“Moomintroll...” Sufkin remarked, after unfurling it completely. What was spread out before him was a heavy winter quilt, and a lovely looking one at that. He gently laid it out over the table, wanting to trace the designs. 

“Little My and I found it in an old storage closet about a month ago, and we liked the colors too much to properly put away. So, I don’t know. I, um-” Moomin cleared his throat. “I asked Mamma to teach me how to sew it up. You know, make it a bit more personalized.” 

The front side of it was carefully stitched with soft pinks and greens, all resembling the cherry trees that grew outside of Moominhouse in the spring. It showed the dawn, brilliant, bright, and sparkling from behind the building. At the edge was Snufkin’s favorite spot by the river, where a tiny version of his hat was sitting, adorned with a flower crown. Next to it was Snufkin’s fishing rod, leaning against the railing exactly where he’d left it not fifteen minutes earlier. 

“The hat is what took me the longest,” Moomintroll said nervously. “All the little petals and such. I was trying to remember your favorites, but it’s been a while since you’ve told me, I don’t know if they’ve changed.” 

Snufkin felt his throat tighten with an unidentifiable emotion. Whatever it was was making it rather difficult to express to his friend what he thought. He just gawped uselessly at the scene before him. 

“Oh, and, uh... you should also look at the other side.” 

Snufkin shakily grabbed one of the corners and pulled it back, slowly turning it the other way. Another wave of... something? Washed over him when he saw what was there. 

It was still Moominhouse, but instead of flowers drifting through the breeze were delicate snowflakes. The sky was draped in the indigo and black mantles of twilight, illuminated dispersedly by floating lanterns that were exploding out towards the sea. The windows of Moominhouse were drawn shut and dark, save for the steady glow of Moomintroll’s bedroom, which spilled light over the ground in front. The river was frozen, bridge abandoned by Snufkin’s things. Except, in the place where Snufkin’s hat was, laid a single forget-me-not from his flower crown. 

“Moomin, I-” 

“Agh, I’m sorry!” Moomin interrupted, looking stressed. “I know, it’s so lame and stupid of me! I just thought that maybe, you know, since you leave every year, that you might be able to look at it when you get lonely. But I shouldn’t have assumed that you did, or that you would even need an extra blanket, or, goodness, I wouldn’t want you to think that I don’t respect your alone time! Why would you even want to think of Moominhouse during then, when you need to be alone? I’m so sorry-” 

“MOOMIN!” yelled Snufkin suddenly, causing Moomin to squeak and bury his snout in his paws. 

There was a great tide of way too many emotions going through Snufkin all at once, and he started to feel a little out of breath. But no. He couldn’t give in to anxiety right now. He refused. 

Snufkin breathed, collected his thoughts for a moment, then drifted forward to guide Moomin’s paws away from his face. 

“My dear Moomintroll...” he said quietly, “The gift is more than anything I could ever ask for. Look at how beautiful it all is!” Snufkin smoothed his thumb around Moomin’s knuckles comfortingly. 

“It looks like my very first glimpse of the valley when I arrive,” he continued fondly. “And the last that I see of it when I leave each winter. I couldn’t think of anything else more perfect to put into such detail. They do say, after all, that the sweetest tastes of any wine are the first sips and the last.” He met Moomintroll’s gaze, and finally, he thought, he might unstick his words properly. 

“I think it best that I should tell you that, though I love my winter travels in solitude, I do get lonely sometimes.” Snufkin swallowed. “There’s no shame in that.” 

Probably, he added mentally. 

“I’m sure it will keep me warm this coming cold season, and whenever I sleep with it, I’ll have the whole of Moominvalley to say goodnight to me.” At this, Snufkin saw that Moomintroll had finally calmed down enough to accept the praise. 

Snufkin decided then and there to do something nice for Moomin in return, and so swooped the surprised Troll into a very quick hug. So quick that he himself would have missed it had he not done it purposefully. Snufkin immediately tugged his scarf, which had fallen slack around his neck, to cover his face before Moomin could see it. 

Too much, too much, too much. Said the voice in Snufkin’s head, chanting like it was a holy mantra. Shut up already. 

“Well, if you’re sure you’d like to keep it... and that it isn’t dumb... then thank you, Snufkin. What you said means a lot to me.” 

Moomin’s face began to blur, and at first Snufkin thought that it was just from the sensory overload. But then, the colors of the kitchen bled together, and everything hovered in a soft mirror of what it should be. 

He hears Moomin changing the subject, asking about how his fishing was, but Snufkin was unable to respond when he tried. He just sat and watched the world shift lazily out of focus. The next time he felt coherent was when he was apparently staring at a crackling fire with a mug of tea in his hands, with the blanket draped nicely over his shoulders. Then everything faded out at once into a cocktail of warmth and the sound of his best friend’s voice.


	2. of nightmares and daydreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh thank you for the lovely comments! I love them so much!
> 
> I just wanted to let everyone know that this chapter is supposed to set the scene for the actual story a little bit more, and as I put in the tags: BE WARNED, IT WILL GET ANGSTY! If you have a hard time reading about fighting, blood, or hinted panic attacks, then READER'S DISCRETION IS ADVISED. Also, warning for the ironic use of uwu, which I have used to the disgust of myself and everyone around me. With that, enjoy!!!
> 
> ps: please leave constructive criticism or comments if you have any! I will accept hate comments too because I find them hilarious.

Snufkin awoke to bright sunlight filtering through the holes in his hat, dancing along the bridge of his nose. He blinked, too sleepy to register what was happening, and his tail twitched slightly where it had been draped on an old, gnarled tree root. 

A slight wind blew in his face, lifting his hat just enough to block out the offending light from his eyes. He smiled and shuffled contentedly farther into the fluffy cocoon of his overcoat. 

Nearby was the bubbling creak that he had come to know so well over the years, and it sang to him cheerfully from where it ran. Birds called mellifluously to him from their perches in the bright canopy of the forest. The breeze felt awfully good on Snufkin’s sweaty hairline, and the patch of sunlight that he was sleeping in was just the right amount of warmth, and the grass felt so, so welcoming to his tired body. 

His eyelids fluttered drowsily, his mind replaying the recollections of the past few days. The memories, oh so sweet, tasted saccharine on his tongue, like the encompassing scent of honeysuckle in the summer, or perhaps the heavy aroma of jasmine in the spring. 

He let the embrace of sleep overtake him again, so he could continue to his liking, to dream of his friend’s excited rambles and their recent adventures. His mind conjured the image of Moomin’s paw in had something bitter to keep him anchored. 

But, thinking away from his own self-consciousness, he thought instead of his dear Moomintroll’s lovely way with words, a talent which Snufkin was endlessly jealous of. He thought of tea and warmth, and the lovely quilt that he couldn’t wait to use, which was sitting neatly folded in his tent. Snufkin settled into himself, content to be drunk on fantasies of domestic mundanity for as long as he could get away with. 

And just as he was about to fall into his afternoon nap again, he sighed happily and tipped his hat down over the flush on his face. His lips slackened with sleep, opening just enough to let him breathe... and thus he immediately choked as a pair of tiny hands shoved a stick down his throat. 

Snufkin coughed, crawling onto his knees. “Wh-What is this?” He ripped the twig out of his mouth and despaired, momentarily, about nature’s recent habit of making sure he knew the taste of dead leaves. 

Little My looked at him incredulously from the ground, bundle of sharp sticks in hand. “Is it not obvious?” 

A moment of silence passed between them, interrupted only by Snufkin’s continued hacking. “I was trying to choke you.” 

Snufkin climbed the rest of the way to standing, swaying somewhat with dizziness, and glared down at the tiny Mymble. “I-” more coughing, “I gathered that, thank you.” His tail lashed behind him, prompting Snufkin to stomp on the end of it. He couldn’t believe that Little My, of all people, had to be the one to pull him from his dreams. 

“You kept murmuring in your sleep, and it was getting annoying.” She exclaimed, rolling her eyes at him. “If you wanted to whine so much, you should’ve gone back to your stupid tent instead of staying out where anyone can hear you.” And with that, she scampered up Snufkin’s back and wrestled her way onto his hat. 

Snufkin sputtered angrily but could not find it in himself to whack her off. She’s just so tiny- he might hurt her. “Little My, get down please! And no, you fiend, I don’t whine in my sleep. You do that.” 

“Do not,” said Little My haughtily, beginning to tug at Snufkin’s thick locks of hair. “but more importantly, yes you do. I’m talking full conversations! One of these days, I’ll get some paper and write it down.” She kicks him in the back of his neck. 

“You have no evidence to back these claims.” he replies, trying to coerce his voice to its usual octave. It was getting harder for him to resist throwing her. 

“Says you! Ask me what you were dreaming about. Go on. I’ll know.” She snickers. “I’d be very surprised if I was wrong.” 

Snufkin stammered, overwhelmed, and covered his face suddenly with his large paws. “My dreams are none of your business! You should go and bother someone else, maybe someone who deserves it. Like, perchance, Sniff.” 

Little My groaned, very clearly irritated. “I’ve already annoyed Sniff today, and if I’m being honest, he was onnly annoying me more in return.” She continued kicking him. “You’re much easier to get a rise out of.” 

“Just... leave, will you?” Snufkin insists, crossing his arms. He usually enjoyed the time spent with his older sister, but right then, he was far too humiliated, sleep addled, and socially drained to deal with her nonsense. Besides, Snufkin had a lovely daydream to get back to if only she would leave him alone. 

“Not until you stop talking so much in your sleep.” Little My taunts. She hops off of his head to dance around in front of him, mimicking his voice in a high falsetto. “Hi! I’m Snufkin and I never know when to shut up, but I don’t like talking to people uwu! LALALALA crime LALALALA forest LALALALA harmonica. Everyone loves me and I hate everyone except for Moomintroll!” 

Snufkin rushed to put his paws over Little My’s mouth before anyone could hear what she was saying. How incredibly embarrassing- what if there’d been people around? 

Little My continued, to Snufkin’s annoyance, to ramble on. His paws were too hastily thrown to cover the Mymble’s mouth properly, and so she used her sharpest teeth to bite into his fingers and proceed. 

“ACK!” Snufkin yelled out, clutching at his now-bleeding paw. That’s it, Snufkin thinks, she can handle being thrown just a little bit. It’s time to yeet the child. 

“And I never ever change my clothes because I’m too good for a fashion sense! Look at my ridiculous green cape and boots that I’ve been wearing since I was thirteen. It’s been seven years since I’ve had a shower and I don’t intend to start bathing now!” 

“Little My, quit it!” 

“I also like to sleep for 98% of the day in the middle of the road! But, get this, no one will ever try to stop me because if they do then I’ll leave forever and then Moomin will die of a broken heart!” 

“That’s enough! I will throw you if you don’t stop! Don’t think I’ll go easy on you because you’re my sister!” 

“I’m also a little BITC-” 

Little My’s sentence was cut off as she was slam tackled to the ground by an absolutely irate Snufkin, who was kicking and biting and scratching at any place he could reach. He was usually a very peaceful person, but everyone had their lines and Little My had long since crossed them. 

“What did I tell you about that kind of language?” Snufkin yelled into her ear when he pinned her to the ground, effectively rendering her immobile. 

“Get over yourself and curse like the rest of us!” She remarked cynically, freeing a leg enough to kick Snufkin in the face. Snufkin released his hands to bat her tiny feet away, which allowed Little My enough time to take one of her sharpened sticks and plunge it into Snufkin’s side. 

“OW! You’re such a nuisance!” He screeched before diving down again to grab the sticks away 

“No, you are!” Little My began to shout, before being gagged by Snufkin’s scarf in a move of panic. She screamed and screamed but could do no good against Snufkin, who was watching figures on the horizon while furiously holding her down. 

“There are people coming, Little My! You better get this insanity sorted out before they approach us!” He whispered, sounding frenzied. 

“MY insanity? YOU’RE the one who never hangs out with anyone because you think you’re too good for us!” Little My yells, after Snufkin realized that she couldn’t breathe and removed the scarf. 

“Shush!” 

“NO! This has been a long time coming! You’re such a confusing, horrid, lonesome, IDIOT that thinks of nobody but yourself! You don’t care what other people think of you and you drive them insane because you couldn’t be bothered to consider a different story!” 

“Little My, now is not the time for this. I just wanted a bit of alone time- why can’t you leave well enough alone?” 

“You hate to be around us unless you’re with Moomintroll, and even he can’t keep you in place for more than a few days at a time! You won’t even play with me anymore!” 

“Little My, this is your last warning. Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden are over there taking a walk and I WILL NOT let you make them upset.” He punctuates this by holding her up by the collar with an iron grip, whipping her head in their direction. “We must quiet down now.” Snufkin whispers threateningly. 

“What’s wrong, scared that they’ll agree with me?” Little My says, in a hoarse whisper of her own. “We’re all just waiting for that one winter where you’ll get sick of us and finally leave the valley on its lonesome for good.” 

Snufkin reels. “You- you don’t mean that. You don’t.” His voice was too quiet. 

Suddenly, a voice reaches out to the fighting siblings from right across the bridge. “Hey, Snufkin! Little My! Can you hear me?” 

Snufkin’s eyes dilate with panic. “Little My, They’re right next to us. If you make one more move, I’ll throw you into the sun with no remorse.” 

Little My scrambles over him, cupping her mouth in preparation to yell, and that’s when many terrible things happened at the same time. 

Moomin and Snorkmaiden arrived at the bridge just in time to catch Snufkin slamming Little My into a nearby tree. The tree quaked, louder than a thunderstroke, and dropped a branch into Snufkin’s face. The branch was thick, and far too heavy for him to push out of his way. It landed on his partially on his arm with a crack, the largest end tearing Snufkin's skin and slicing a deep cut just under his eye. 

Little My gasps, dodging by a millimeter, and turns back to Snufkin, who was now pouring blood from many places at once. She was immediately horrified of what they’d done and tried to run to his aid. 

Snufkin was injured and overwhelmed with distress, so he pushed her away and accidentally aggravated the wound further. He was looking more and more like a ghost story by the second, what with the blood dripping and staining great streaks on his face and overcoat. 

“Let me help you, Snufkin! You’re only making it worse!” 

“Stay AWAY from me!” He screamed, looking like a caged animal. 

“Snufkin? What’s happening?” Said a very concerned looking Moomintroll from a few feet away. He was holding onto Snorkmaiden, who was looking worriedly at the fuss. 

Snufkin then looked, stricken, from Moomintroll to Snorkmaiden to Little My and back. He felt sick to his stomach in more ways than one, and the blood running down his arms and face wasn’t helping his anxiety at all. He just wanted to forget that this ever happened and go back to sleep. 

“Leave me alone leave me alone LEAVE ME ALONE LEAVE ME ALONE LEAVE ME ALONE!” He cried. 

“Snufkin, please wait! You’re bleeding all over!” Said Moomin, who had left Snorkmaiden in favor of running to help. 

But Snufkin didn’t care. He ran from his friends, jumping the branch and Little My, fallen rocks, broken boards, ran through flowers and grass until he reached the edge of the bridge and tossed himself directly over it. He rolled when he hit the ground, feeling several limbs protest greatly, but didn’t stop until there were stitches in his ribs and the calls of his friends and sister were far too distant to hear. 

His heart was pounding, and his face was flushed, and things were bad. He wished that his heart could still be fluttering. He wished that he could still be warm from daydreams. But he felt like his body was set on fire to burn out, not to glow. 

Snufkin just wanted to sleep, and he’d find out whether or not he’d die of blood loss if he never woke up again.


	3. Don't Leave Me Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Back at it with another chapter that nobody asked for or cares about. As long as no one wants me to create I will keep writing out of sheer spite. 
> 
> TW for blood and mild depressive thoughts. Don't know if it's important but Little My says fuck and you cannot change this.
> 
> Also PLEASE comment, even if it's just "you suck". I love to read commentary it's like a fricking addiction.
> 
> ALSO DEAR GOD, I'M SO SORRY ABOUT THE TYPOS AND BAD FORMATTING. I HAVE FIXED IT BUT JEEZ I'M SO EMBARRASSED I WILL NEVER WRITE IN THE MORNING EVER AGAIN.

Moomin watched helplessly at the train wreck of a morning in front of him, not entirely sure what happened, but holding an immense sense of unease. The sun was burning into his fur uncomfortably. The trees swayed low almost as if in sorrow.

He is suddenly struck by the need to act, and so turns to Little My and Snorkmaiden. “I don’t understand why you and Snufkin were fighting,” He says. “But we can’t just let him run off like that, can we? He could get hurt, or lost, or worse...” And then an apple smacked against the back of his head.

“You idiot, he’s already hurt! He’s bleeding to his damn end out there!” said Little My, standing on the bridge of the railing.

“I know that!” Moomintroll insisted. “That only means that he is that much more vulnerable to dangers that already exist, not just ones that were created between him and you.”

Little My glared at him, fire in her gaze, but then sat down to hold her face in her paws. Snorkmaiden patted her shoulder comfortingly, although it didn’t seem like it helped.

“He’s so fucking stupid.” She stated morosely.

Snorkmaiden covered her ears. “Little My! We don’t talk about our friends like that!” She chided.

“Whatever.” She replied, looking up at the sky now.

It all just seemed so convoluted, thought Moomintroll. All he wanted to do was go and help Snufkin, but he had been friends with him for long enough to know that the Mumrik didn’t want any company. At least, not until he calmed down, that is. But they were wasting precious time. Moomintroll didn’t really know how to work around that particular moral dilemma, in which he either disobeys his dear Snufkin’s wishes out of his best interest, or he keeps to himself and Snufkin may... not make it.

There were no circumstances in which Moomintroll wouldn’t choose an upset Snufkin over a dead one. It was just that, if he didn’t approach the situation with delicacy, then Snufkin would decline treatment, and that would be that.

“Maybe Moominmammma will know what to do.” Said Sorkmaiden, glancing at the house about a minute or two away. “She always does.”

“In ordinary situations, I would agree with you. But I’m afraid that no one in Moominhouse knows a single thing about solitude. Especially in the case of Snufkin. I would be the best one to ask after Snufkin himself, but I’m currently at a little bit of a loss.” Moomin replied, shaking his head.

“Of course you’d say something like that,” Little My grouched. “All high and mighty about it. As if I know nothing about solitude, or Snufkin.”

“I’m not trying to be smug about it, I’m just trying to be reasonable.” replied Moomintroll. “I spend the most time with him, and he has made many attempts to describe to me his preferences on being alone. It takes time and dedication to understand someone like that. You, Little My, lack the patience. Plus,” Moomin continued, “With all due respect, you grew up in a house that was absolutely stuffed to the brim with siblings. So, let’s just leave this argument to rest before it starts, and focus instead on what is best for Snufkin.”

“Well?” Little My said after an extensive silence. “What do you think we should do then, if you’re such an expert?”

“I think I’m going to follow him. Just- make sure that he’s okay.” Moomin responded. He nodded to himself, then started to pull away from the bridge. “I’m going to need something first, though.”

\------

Meanwhile, in a campsite pitched by the edge of the woods, Snufkin was struggling to strip the blood-soaked overcoat from his shaking frame. It clung like a child does to their parents, tightly and not going away without a fight. He was just too dizzy to conduct the fine motor skills that his body needed at the moment, so after a few tries at forcing the coat to unstick to him, he just gave up, collapsing into a pile of stressed Mumrik on the floor.

It was still too light outside for Snufkin to be going to bed. Really, it was only barely past noon. But he thought that maybe, if he tried really hard, he could get himself to sleep until the next morning and pretend that today had never occurred.

He cringed into the bedroll that he’d thrown himself on top of, gripping the sides and hugging it close to exert some anxious energy still left in him. Why, why, WHY, did things that he loved always get ruined one way or another? How could Snufkin have a safe space if he couldn’t trust even his dreams?

He grumbled and curled himself up small, trying to ignore the ache in his hips from where Little My jabbed him and the crusted blood on his paws and face. Everything felt too loud and too quiet, too present and too absent, too light and too heavy. Snufkin wanted to smash his head into the floor until it knocked him out. Well, perhaps not literally. That would probably stain his bedroll, and blood splatters wouldn’t look very friendly when he was carrying it around on his backpack.

But he digressed. His only priority, judging by the swimming vision that he was experiencing, was to stop thinking of what had just happened and instead try to get some rest.

Snufkin didn’t attempt to make himself comfortable. There wasn’t much of a point, considering how much pain he was in. No matter which way he turned, there would still be a wound to lean on or a cut to sting. This wasn’t the first time he’d gone to sleep with injuries. Snufkin highly doubted that it would be his last.

He spent the latter half of the afternoon listening to the sounds from outside his tent. The sun went from yellow and hot to golden and cool, dipping into the horizon and shading the sky amber. He never moved. Not even when his stomach protested, and he remembered that he had not eaten that day.

His mind blurred in and out of lucidity. Some of the time, Snufkin basked in the peace of the blank void that lulled the ache in his bones. But it was not always like that. He couldn’t really tell if he was awake or in between, but there was a point in which a line of vicious text would run through his thoughts, because he was simply too tired to fight it away.

_We’re all just waiting for that one winter where you’ll get sick of us and finally leave the valley on its lonesome for good._

_She’s right to worry._

_We’re all just waiting for that one winter where you’ll get sick of us and finally leave the valley on its lonesome for good._

_You aren’t exactly reliable._

_We’re all just waiting for that one winter where you’ll get sick of us and finally leave the valley on its lonesome for good._

_You should do it. Prove to yourself that you can. Make them cry._

_We’re all just waiting for that one winter where you’ll get sick of us and finally leave the valley on its lonesome for good._

_But that’s assuming that they would miss you._

_We’re all just waiting for that one winter where you’ll get sick of us and finally leave the valley on its lonesome for good._

_Or notice your absence at all._

Snufkin curled tighter.

\-----

“Hello?” Moomin called, gently as he could muster. “Snufkin? It’s me, Moomintroll.”

No response. Moomin was standing just outside of Snufkin’s tent, staring at the entrance with concern clear on his features. It had taken a few hours to get his things together to take to Snufkin, which he sincerely hoped was enough time for him to calm down. The poor dear must be feeling just awful...

“Snufkin?” He said again, trying to see if he could spot his shadow through the tent. He didn’t want to intrude on anything, especially if his friend was indecent.

Suddenly, a weak coughing sound rang out to him. “Go away, Moomin.” Said Snufkin, voice cracking with strain. “I’m not here.”

“Well, alright then.” Moomintroll said into the fabric of the tent. “If you’re not here, then I guess I’ll have to leave a message for you. Do you know of anyone who can pass one along?”

A few moments were spent idle between them. Moomin took the opportunity to admire the golden leaves on the trees behind the tent, which blew and fluttered around in the slight updraft. The sun was just beginning to set now- it would be best to finish up sooner rather than later. But Moomin knew more than anyone that patience was a virtue when it came to dealing with Snufkin.

“...Yes.” Came the hesitant answer.

“Okay. Tell Snufkin when you see him next that I’ve got some fisherman’s stew with me in case he’d like a taste. Oh- and some bandages for those nasty scratches.”

A few more minutes. Some shuffling. A pained wince. “He says that you may enter the tent.”

Moomin’s eyes widen in surprise. There was always a very slim possibilty that Snufkin would accept Moomin’s offer and come outside. He hadn’t expected permission to go in. Not that he was about to decline or anything! Still, Moomin took a moment just to be safe. “You’re sure? Don’t feel like there’s any pressure tied to it, or anything like that.”

“You may enter the tent.” Snufkin said, voice small.

“Alright. I’m coming in, then.” Moomin answered. He waited one more moment, afraid that Snufkin would change his mind, but no protest came. It was time. So, Moomin took a deep breath and ducked into the entrance.

Inside Snufkin’s tent was like a whole other world. Albeit, a very cozy looking one. It was pretty messy considering how few possessions that he had, but of the ones that he did, they were scattered all over the floor. Some books, cooking supplies, a probably once white tank top, and some plain black shorts were all stashed in various locations on the surface area around Snufkin’s bedroll. The bedroll itself took up the majority of the space.

The air smelled of several different kinds of smokes, but most prominently sage. There was a little bit of lingering tobacco scent too, but based on his observations, Snufkin had not smoked recreationally in a pretty long while.

Snufkin himself was laying on the floor, looking quite sickly. The area under his right eye was smeared with old blood and tear tracks. The rest of the Mumrik’s body was tucked under his bedroll, making it impossible to see, but it was still pretty easy to tell that Snufkin was holding his pained side. He didn’t look up when Moomintroll walked in.

“Moomintroll.” Snufkin greeted politely. It was very out of place, considering how atypical of a meeting this was for the two of them, and it caused spikes of dread to pierce through Moomin’s stomach.

“Snufkin. Oh dear, you’re not looking too good.” He rushed over to his friend’s side, shaking away the unease. The pack that he was carrying was dropped to the floor, and Moomin quickly started unloading it while he spoke. “I’m so sorry. I wish you didn’t have to be hurt like this.”

Snufkin shifted only slightly, meeting Moomin’s eyes with his healthy one. The other one was shut tight. “Sometimes life will hurt you, Moomin. There is a point where you learn to accept it as it comes.” He said gruffly.

“While that is very wise, Snufkin, I think I can be safe in assuming that this was a fate that could have been avoided on both your and Little My’s parts.” Moomin responds, trying to sound stern. He bit off the end of the bandage that he was unfurling, making a few more identical ones before his friend spoke.

“Perhaps.” Slowly, Snufkin used his arms to heave himself into a sitting position, although it looked like it hurt far more than it should have. When the blanket fell away from Snufkin’s shoulder’s Moomin gasped at the sight in front of him.

Snufkin’s favorite green overcoat was torn in a lot more places than usual, probably from his and his sister’s claws when they were scuffling. Blood was splattered all down the front, making him look surreally horrifying in the low light levels of the tent where he lay. On Snufkin’s hip was a large wound that had red blooming around it like a very, very terrible rose.

Moomin had never really understood the stereotype of people fainting at the sight of blood, but looking upon his lovely, dear Snufkin in such disarray was making him dizzy.

But he had to pull through this! For Snufkin’s sake.

“Alright, let’s get you patched up.” Moomin looked up at Snufkin warily. “Would you. Uh...”

Snufkin looked at his coat and seemed to get the idea. “Oh, yes, I suppose that would make this go a little bit easier. But I don’t know if I can remove it anymore.” He said, shrugging in resignation.

“What do you mean, you can’t remove it anymore?” Moomin questioned. He trusted that Snufkin was telling the truth, but still, that was quite the odd statement. “Is it stuck?”

“Yes, of sorts. I really should have taken off my coat before my wounds started clotting up.” A thought occurred to him, making him cringe a little bit. “I’m going to have to rip it out, aren’t I?”

Moomin winced in sympathy. Well, at least Snufkin didn’t have as much fur to get it stuck on. When Moomins got injured, blood was always quite the pain to get out of their thick locks of fur. Especially during winter, when they were supposed to be hibernating and their coats were at their thickest. But it was still going to be a rather dreadful experience for his Mumrik friend. “Do it quick. It hurts less like that.” He advised.

“On three.” Moomin suggested. Snufkin got himself set up to take off the coat, then closed his eyes, presumably waiting for Moomin to begin the countdown. Instead, just to scare him, Moomin just got very close to Snufkin’s ear and barked “THREE!”

Snufkin yelped, tearing the fabric away from him in surprise. He immediately started bleeding again, due to the clots being ripped away, but Snufkin didn’t seem to realize through his laughter.

“Moomintroll, that was a dirty trick!” He said, throwing his coat over onto the floorspace. Moomin was shaking in mirth, even as he grabbed the bandages from right next to him and prepared for them to be applied.

“Yes, but it got you to complete our goal in the long run!” He replied. Snufkin just smacked his palm to his forehead, seeming to be at least somewhat amused. A little smile was forming on his lips.

“What am I going to do with you?” Snufkin asked, without caring about the answer.


	4. But There's Never Any Sunrise in Moominvalley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay, everyone! I was a little bit caught up working at the Special Olympics over the weekend, and it caused me to put off my writing far more than I was expecting. But, here you are! Fetch!
> 
> Thank you for your sweet comments! Continue leaving them and I will forever be in your debt. ;)

Moomin was busy wrapping up Snufkin’s shoulder with his gentle paws, pulling the bandages over a nasty scratch, when he decided to risk asking a question. 

It’s not really like Moomin wanted to pry, and he knew that Snufkin was perfectly justified to have secrets, but he was concerned for both him and Little My. Something that had caused the two most collected people he knew such distress could not have been good. Moomin wanted to know what had happened so that he could help his friends avoid repeating it. 

He remembered seeing Snufkin’s face as he was pushing Little My into the tree. It was so angry, but at the same time, he had seemed incredibly frightened. Moomintroll wasn’t even sure if he had seen his friend so agitated before. How terrible would Snufkin have to be feeling in order to lash out like that, especially to Little my of all people? Moomin would understand if it was that foul creature, Stinky, or perhaps Sniff- but even in those cases, the other party would have had to do something quite horrid to make Snufkin fight with such vigor. No matter what it was, Moomin was sure that the answer was going to be something that he wouldn’t like. 

But he simply couldn’t let that stop him. Snufkin might need him, so he must be strong and ask. 

“Snufkin, dear, are you awake?” Moomin questioned, trying to keep his voice low and steady. The best way to get into Snufkin’s mind was to meet him where he was at, and so Moomin thought it best to try the small, soft tone that the Mumrik usually spoke in. 

Snufkin looked up at him, clearly off in space, and hummed a little bit as he was stirring. He had been acting quite relaxed as Moomin was doing his job, leaning into Moomin and struggling not to slump over, which was uncharacteristic of the Mumrik even at the best of times. Moomin chalked it up to the blood loss making him tired. 

“Unfortunately. D’you need something?” Snufkin responded, voice heavy with sleep. He stretched his other arm out and flicked his tail as though waking for the first time that day, then settled comfortably back into Moomin’s chest. 

Moomin involuntarily flicked his ears, getting the urge to pet Snufkin’s hair. It looked so soft, maybe even softer than Moomin’s own fur. And very fluffy. 

Snufkin, having not heads nor tails of an idea about Moomin’s mindless tangent, heaved a contented sigh into Moomin’s fur. He let himself finally bridge the gap between them, if just for a moment, while he was to sleepy to stop himself. It would probably be quite comfortable, he thought underneath the clouds in his mind, and so let his shoulders ease into his friend’s fur. 

For just one moment, he thought. 

Moomin shook his head in an attempt to snap out of his sudden dizzy spell. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted by his friend’s cuteness. He had more important things to do, like focusing on getting a story out of Snufkin, and attending to his wounds. Moomin directed himself to the next cut and made sure that he disinfected it properly before he spoke. 

“Yes. I’m sorry to have to bother you like this, but I really do need to know.” Moomin carefully inspected Snufkin’s bruised elbow next, applying some balm to it. “Why do you think Little My tried to hurt you like this? I mean, as much as she loves pranking, brawling to the point of injury really doesn’t seem like her style.” Moomin punctuated his point by tying off the bandage. 

Snufkin rubbed at his eyes to get rid of the haze enough to answer. Of course, that’s what Moomintroll wanted to know about. It made sense to him. Although, he felt disappointed over something that the Mumrik couldn’t quite place. “Well, to tell you the truth, I don’t actually think that she meant to.” 

“Oh?” said Moomin, trying to encourage Snufkin’s words. He wrapped up the area he was working on and shuffled around to check his friend’s other arm for abrasions. 

“No. She probably didn’t have any plans to bother me this morning, as much as it might seem likely otherwise.” Snufkin replied, seemingly coming to proper consciousness again. “I think that we both just got carried away.” 

“That’s a bit of an understatement. Be glad you can’t see the scratch marks on your back, Snufkin, because I have a feeling that you wouldn’t like them.” Moomin informed solemnly. 

Snufkin reddened, then looked down shamefully. “Is it really bothering you?” 

Moomin’s eyes widened in realization. “Wh- No, of course it’s not!” 

“I really shouldn’t have been so quick to let her get to my head... perhaps these scars wouldn’t be causing you trouble.” Snufkin said, voice going even quieter than usual. 

Moomin felt a sudden surge of protectiveness. He didn’t think that Snufkin shouldn’t go blaming things on himself, even if he had started it, as that never did anything useful except make one feel terrible. Nobody deserved something like that after such emotional turmoil. 

“Now you listen here. I don’t think that it was a good think that you and Little My were fighting, and I do think that you both should apologize,” Moomin chastised. “But everyone makes mistakes, you know. It’s hard to take insults all the time. Even for someone as thick skinned as you!” 

Moomin then turned to nuzzle his great big snout into Snufkin’s neck, attempting to tickle the Mumrik into forgetting that line of thought for good. 

The healthy pink of Snufkin’s cheeks darkened into a rose-colored blush, and his tail flicked around madly. “Moomintroll, please!” He protested through giggles. 

He cupped Moomin’s face to guide it away, which Moomintroll playfully resisted until giving in a moment later. Moomin simply couldn’t resist seeing the sappy look on his friend’s face as he drew back. 

“Well, anyway.” Moomin continued, still chuckling a little bit. “It’s just... I was surprised that you really got this roughed up. Neither you nor Little My typically result to something so violent, even when you’re quite angry.” 

“Even you have thrown some punches in your day, Moomintroll.” 

“True, true. But you don’t lose your temper nearly as easily as I do!” 

They pondered this for a second. Snufkin cleared his throat, then added, “Unless it’s the park keeper. I got into three fistfights with him in the last week.” 

Moomin, upon hearing this, dropped his paws away from Snufkin’s arm and hunched over. Snufkin confusedly stared at him. 

Had Moomintroll really been bothered by that? He knew that Moomin did not typically like law-breaking as much as Snufkin did, but he had been in a few scuffles in the past. Surely it couldn’t have surprised him. Snufkin was almost constantly in trouble with the law regardless of whether or not physical fighting had been involved, and Moomintroll knew it, so then why the fuss? Snufkin scratched at his hair self-consciously. 

Moomin struggled to speak to Snufkin, and he appeared to be having a difficult time breathing. Snufkin dearly hoped that Moomin wasn’t crying. Snufkin was simply terrible at calming people when they cried. 

“Snufkin! That... That’s...” Moomin gasped, hugging his arms together now. 

“That’s what?” 

“Hilarious!” Moomintroll yelled, unable to stifle his laughter anymore. “I can’t believe that you’ve done something like that!” 

Snufkin, bewildered, joined him a moment later, and soon they were both in hysterics. 

“Really?” Moomin yelled. “Three?” 

“Yes, three!” 

“Goodness! That’s-” Moomin tapered off into a snort. “That’s insane!” 

Snufkin clutched his stitching side in relief, so glad that Moomin found it funny. “He deserved every bit of it! The forest is supposed to be for everybody, not just those with licenses!” Snufkin choked on another laugh. 

“I know, Snufkin, very brave of you to stand up to the park keeper like that. I’m sure it was a magnificent fight!” Moomin joked, trying to keep him from moving so much lest he destroy Moomin’s handiwork. 

“The park keeper actually is not very good at fighting. I won all three times.” Snufkin said proudly as Moomin tugged him back into place. “I’d do it again, too.” 

Moomin’s laughter faded out kindly, as he began to chatter a bit the way that Moomins tend to. “Lovely, so long as you wait for all these scratches to heal up. If they get infected, I will stand outside of your tent at midnight and play the loudest trumpet I can find while you try to sleep.” Moomin told his friend with mock sternness. And with that, he wiped off his paws, then reached back into his bag for more supplies. 

Snufkin was snickered at Moomin’s hilarious attempt at a threat. “You? The trumpet? Why, I didn’t realize that you knew how to play one.” 

“I don’t, which is why it would be a disastrous fate for you.” 

“I guess I’ll have to behave myself then.” Snufkin commented with a wink. 

A second later, Moomin finished rummaging through his pack and pulled out a few jugs of water, a bucket, soap, and some washcloths. Snufkin bristled a little upon seeing it- it kind of looked like he was setting up a bath. Moomin took the first jug and dumped it into the bucket along with one of the washcloths. He then rung it out carefully, and turned back to Snufkin, who was paling slightly. 

“Moomintroll, dear, are you going to... make me take a bath?” Snufkin said, shuddering. It’s not like he dislikes being clean so much, he guessed, but bathing was just a little bit of a hassle even at the best of times, let alone when he was covered in cloth bandages. 

“Hm?” Moomin looked at his things. “Oh! No, silly. If I was going to do that, I’d probably need to give you a day of warning first. This is just to wash the excess blood off.” He said, pointing to Snufkin’s face and torso. 

Ah, yes, he had forgotten about those. Perhaps it would be better to clean them off before he sent an innocent civilian running for the hills. 

The cut below his eye had long since stopped bleeding, but there was still quite a bit of the aftermath present on Snufkin’s cheek and neck below. It was one of the few cuts that Moomin was unable to bandage for him because of its position, and so had not been cleaned or disinfected yet. 

“Alright you big dork,” Moomin said, tone light and fond. “I’m going to touch your face now. If it gets to be too much and you’d like me to stop, just let me know.” 

Snufkin’s breathing failed considerably for a few seconds, and his poor heart picked up at a runner's pace. Ugh, he hated it when that happened. Snufkin tried his best to quell it.

“Okay, okay. Alright.” He whispered.

Snufkin felt the warm towel carefully press against his skin. Moomin’s soft brushed over him as they worked slow but diligent, and the Mumrik was reminded of the comfortable folds of an old blanket, sunshine on a nice rock, or twigs snapping in a crackling fire. All of Snufkin’s favorite things. 

He was deeply unsettled by this... Although, for whatever reason, he didn’t want Moomin to pull away. Due to the lack of protest on Snufkin’s part, Moomin kept going, a look of concentration on his face as he would pull the towel away red, dump it into the bucket, ring it out and start over. 

The washcloth was very noticeably hot to the touch, even as it was dunked into its bucket again. Snufkin pondered if it was really hot like that or if he was just hypersensitive. 

Not that the heat was too bad, Snufkin supposed. 

“Snufkin? Are you sure you’re okay with this?” 

“Yes.” He said quickly. “I’m perfectly fine.” 

Snufkin felt the sudden urge to cover his burning face. He really couldn’t though, so instead he just let the fluffy, weird, warm feelings battle it out in his chest and tried not to let it show through enough for Moomin to notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I was unhappy with this chapter when I posted it, so here's the UPDATED VERSION!!! Moomin 2.0, lads!


	5. The Finer Details

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! I fixed the last chapter, so go check that out if you haven't! 
> 
> ENJOY! And PLZ LEAVE COMMENT!!!!!! I'm a desperate ho!!

The minutes passed in relatively easy silence, and Snufkin was taking his time getting used to the constant physical contact. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that, had anyone but Moomintroll tried to do this, he most likely would have run screaming out of his tent and thrown himself into the lake by this point. The fact that he had not done so by now was quite an accomplishment. 

Moomin was just about finished, dabbing here and there with some antiseptic that was making Snufkin lightheaded. Although, well, he knew that there were many other factors contributing... he had lost quite a bit of blood earlier. 

He blinked slowly, letting the fuzzy, floating sensation swim around his head for a second. It wasn’t so bad if he relaxed into it- and it made Moomin look incredibly fluffy. He reached out a paw to pet his friend’s arm, running his fingers through the velvety fur. Moomin chuckled at him. 

“I’m sorry if you’re getting bored, Snufkin. Luckily we just have one more spot and I’ll be done!” Moomintroll said with a smile. “Just hold on a little bit longer.” 

Snufkin hummed. He couldn’t say that he was bored, exactly, but eh. It would be better for them to finish this up soon. Snufkin had some sewing that he wanted to do before turning it in for the night, and Moomin surely must have something else to be doing. 

Besides, Snufkin thought as he was sniffing the air, the stew that Moomin had brought with him smelled delicious, and he really wanted to get a taste of that. His stomach rumbled eagerly at the thought. He hadn’t had a proper meal for almost two days, could anyone blame him? 

Oh, and Moomin knew that fisherman’s stew would be the perfect bribe for Snufkin. Fish and stew, his two favorite dinners, combined into one amazing dish. It was revolutionary, in Snufkin’s opinion! 

His thoughts began to scatter off into their own directions, daydreaming of stew and fishing and maybe playing on his harmonica later, when he suddenly heard an incredulous noise from Moomintroll. 

“Snufkin?” He asked. “Are you... purring?” 

Indeed, a slow rumbling was coming from the back of his throat.Snufkin, flushing crimson, tried his best to stifle himself to mixed results. 

“N-Not on purpose. I can’t really control it, you see.” Snufkin stuttered, very deliberately avoiding eye-contact with Moomintroll. How incredibly irresponsible of him, the Mumrik thought. He should have been paying closer attention. 

“That’s so adorable! You never told me that you could do that.” Moomin exclaimed, tapping his paws together in delight, then moving to scratch lightly behind Snufkin’s ears. 

They had established a while ago in their friendship that doing so would be a relatively easy way to show affection without bothering Snufkin too much, as for whatever reason, he never minded when Moomin scratched that particular spot. It was supposed to be their way of meeting in the middle of Snufkin’s standoffishness and Moomin’s love for closeness. However, Snufkin’s stupid, stupid body was not cooperating with him today, and so Snufkin seemed to be feeling all the wrong things. 

The gentle touch was wrecking Snufkin’s already messy and tangled hair. Although, the contact did much more to wreck his composure. Really, this couldn’t be fair, because today, Snufkin was being surprised by how nice it felt. How was he supposed to stop the blasted purring now? 

His face became redder, and he buried it into his paws. “I hadn’t intended for you to find out.” 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It just means that you’re happy!” Moomin giggled. 

To Snufkin’s absloute horror, his purring became louder. Gosh. Heck. Oh stars above, Snufkin wanted to bury himself and never be seen again possibly ever. 

“At the expense of my image, perhaps.” Snufkin grumbled. 

Moomin only smiled at him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the steam rising up from the stew outside his tent. Perfect! A distraction. He was very hungry and very done with himself at the moment, and so having dinner could only mean good things. 

“Well What Do You Know, We Should Probably Check on the Stew Now.” Said Snufkin, very haltingly in between involuntary purrs. 

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot about dinner.” Moomin commented, looking sheepish. His paw finally left its place tangled up in Snufkin’s hair, and Snufkin heaved an incredible sigh as the purring finally ceased. He was humiliated beyond all measure. But, at least Moomintroll didn’t seem to notice very much. 

Moomin tied up the final bandages and announced Snufkin free in his hurry to check the stew. 

“I guess we can eat now that you’re all cleaned up. Come here and taste this, let’s see if it needs anything!” Moomin yelled to Snufkin as he exited the tent. 

Snufkin took a quick moment to turn around and smack his pillow onto his face about six times, then grabbed his hat and furiously pulled it over his eyes. There is no way, Snufkin thought, that he’s ever showing his face around Moomintroll ever again. 

Snufkin scampered out into the front of his campsite, blinking wearily into the very last rays of the sun on the horizon. 

Well, he guessed, it was the end of another day. The end of a day that started so terribly, of one that he wanted so badly to be over, and yet... he couldn’t bring himself to stop from clinging to the sunlight. 

He didn’t want to be dramatic, or anything. But it was still frustrating how easily he’d ruined a perfectly good day. And for what? Little My was usually right. Perhaps he should begin thinking of ways to apologize. 

Moomin, oblivious to Snufkin’s sudden turn into darkness, reached sweetly for his paw and pulled him to sit by the fire. He had set it up sometime while Snufkin had been drifting into space, putting his fisherman’s stew into a travel pot over the campfire to let it heat up while he worked. It was smelling heavenly, like warm broth and juicy fish. Snufkin’s mouth immediately started watering. 

He dashed over to his cookware bag and returned to hand Moomin some bowls, and soon, they were ladling out portions for the both of them. Snufkin scarfed his down as soon as he got his grubby little claws on the bowl. But Moomin, ever the gentleman, waited until Snufkin was satisfied with his first serving before taking any. 

Moomin smiled warmly, and Snufkin saw the sunrise in his eyes. 

\----- 

A few hours later, Snufkin was curling up in his tent, getting ready to turn out his lantern. It had been a very, very, very long day and he was quite ready to get back to unconsciousness. 

The flaps of the tent fluttered as he darted around, fixing up this or that and putting away his sewing supplies. Snufkin had been stitching up his overcoat in the time after Moomin left. Unfotunately, it was still pretty disgusting and drenched in red, but that could be fixed with water and some soap from Moominmamma. 

It’s a little bit strange to not be wearing it, Snufkin thought as he folded it up. Perhaps he should invest in a sweater for other occasions such as this. His tank top should be able to service him as far as clothing goes- Snufkin could potentially be arrested for many things, but indecency was not one of them. Although while the ratty old thing will protect him from the cops (for now), it would do very little against the cold. Snufkin hoped against hope that the Groke had not begun her journey through the valley yet. The temperature was already chilly enough at night! 

He shivered slightly. Perhaps it wouldn’t do to dwell- if he thought about it too much, then the cold might come up to bite him despite his best efforts. 

The lamplight dimmed down to a puff of smoke, and then it was gone, and soon the way was only illuminated by the very thin shine of moonlight through the edges of the tent. It lay, brilliantly, in the way that only the moon can, in slivers upon Snufkin’s bedroll. 

How... quaint, Snufkin thought, after searching for the right word for a moment. He guessed that it simply must be nature’s way of reminding him that all would be well in the end. Snufkin giggled, because that sounded like something that moomintroll would come up with. 

he mumrik yawned, then stretched out his limbs as far as they could reach in every direction before collapsing backwards onto his fluffy bedroll with a soft noise. 

Welp. That had certainly been a mistake. His wounds protested wildly to the sudden change in pressure, to which Snufkin angrily thought ‘I know, I know, be quiet!’. Lousy good-for-nothing scratches. He was going to be in for a long night if things kept coming along the way they have been. 

Snufkin pulled himself forward to burrow under his blankets, twiddling his feet together in an attempt to get some friction going. Everything was just a little bit too chilly to be comfortable for sleep, and that included the parts of him that were tucked in. He huffed a soft breath into his pillow. The urge to start a fire was getting stronger, although he knew that he couldn’t. 

The embers in the fire pit outside were already cooled, and besides, it’s never a good idea to keep a fire next to one’s equipment while sleeping. The thought of fire was nice until you remembered its destructive abilities. One time when he had been traveling through the edge of Norway, Snufkin fell asleep in front of the fire pit and was awoken to his knitting erupting into flame. The local children who were snooping around his campsite had laughed and laughed at him for an hour for being so foolish. 

Snufkin grimaced through the recollection. He did not like to think about it very much, but he had to admit, the memory kept him from being irresponsible with fire again. 

Well, no use crying over it. Snufkin gathered himself into a tight ball and hoped that his body heat would suffice. 

\------ 

Dead winter. The raging storms. Do you remember, child? When you were just a babe, and I held you close in my arms, how you would tuck yourself into me and scream at the sky? 

What were you running from? 

The reason why you can never belong anywhere, you know it. It’s not freedom. It’s feeling trapped. 

The winter is not your enemy, but you never should have considered something without a conscious a friend. It will destroy you if you aren’t careful, boy. 

Do you feel the wind piercing through you? The exhilaration of a need being fulfilled? It won’t last. Listen to me. Nothing lasts forever. 

You need to remember what I taught you back then. There’s only so much time that you’ll have before my words fade from your memory. If you forget, it will all be in vain. They won’t remember you anymore, and the home that you took for granted will disappear into the folds of time. 

I miss your warmth. 

I made your mistakes. Don’t make mine. Take what you have and 

FIGHT FOR IT IF YOU HAVE TO. 

 

I'LL REACH YOU ONE DAY, 

THEY CAN’T HOLD ME BACK FOREVER! 

PLEASE LISTEN! DON’T TRUST IT! 

 

DON’T LET THEM TAKE YOU- 

\----- 

Snufkin decided that he hated his dreams.


End file.
